Harry Potter and the Riddle Glass
by Master Of One
Summary: [postHBP] Harry leaves the Dursleys at last so he can fulfill his destiny but first he has to survive a wedding, mysterious disappearances, and maddening clues that all lead to nothing . . .
1. A New Beginning

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hi everyone! This is my newest story, Harry Potter and the Riddle Glass. (No, I'm not explaining the title. You'll find out soon enough.) I have very little time to say anything, so I'm just going to advise you that this story is one possible version of the seventh book, so it does take place **ENTIRELY AFTER HBP** and will contain loads of spoilers.

Enjoy!

Haruka Lune!

* * *

A light, early-morning mist hung over the small town of Little Whinging, in Surrey. In a small bedroom in a small house on a small street called Privet Drive, a skinny, black-haired boy with a curious, lightning-shaped scar on his forehead lay in a tangle of bedsheets, half on the floor. At the foot of the old bed was a trunk with a rather curious assortment of items inside, laying cheek-in-jowl with clothes, sweets, and what appeared to be a perfectly normal mirror. These items were the belongings of one Harry Potter, The Chosen One, The-Boy-Who-Lived (better known to his friends as just plain old Harry), the boy sleeping on the bed - at the moment. 

The silence was shattered as the bedroom door crashed open, and a man with a very large and bushy moustache - Harry's Uncle Vernon - strode into the room, his face an unbecoming shade of plum.

"BOY!"

Harry sat up with a start and hit his head soundly on the corner of the bedside table as he tried to scramble back into the bed in order to maintain some kind of dignity.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon's face turned, if that were possible, even purpler than before. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Harry did not. Everything looked blurry.

"It's almost five o'clock in the morning, boy! I want you out of here! _Before_ the neighbors are awake to see you dragging your degenerate self out the front door, do you understand me? Now get dressed!" Uncle Vernon turned on his heel and exited the way he came, slamming the door so hard the single window rattled.

Harry fumbled for his glasses and put them on before looking at the calendar on the wall. July thirty-first, his birthday. Of course. Thirty-one days until school started again, provided Hogwarts hadn't been shut down by the school governors.

But . . . July thirty-first . . .

He was free!

Harry jumped out of bed with an enthusiasm to match that of a first-year student. He grabbed the first set of clothes out of his trunk and put them on without bothering to make sure they matched, then threw his pyjamas into the empty space. It was only then that he realised something important and rather distressing - the sun wasn't even up. Everything was still that strange shade of predawn grey, and he'd just been told to get out of the house . . . but he had nowhere to go. There were no other wizards in Little Whinging, or even in most of Surrey. He put his hands to his forehead and tried to think. No wizards. No witches. No way to contact anyone on short notice because he didn't have access to the Floo network. Plenty of Voldemort's agents running around, though, no doubt waiting to hex him as soon as he left the house.

* * *

Twenty minutes later found him puffing his way up Mrs. Figg's front walk, dragging his trunk behind him. Mrs. Figg opened the door for him cautiously and helped him pull his trunk inside, where it was seized by four identical hands and heaved out of the way. 

"Hey, mate, what you doing up so early?"

"You were supposed to stay inside -"

"- so we could come pick you up -"

"- without you being put in harm's way -"

"- or at least that's what Mum says."

Harry finally got a word in edgewise.

"Er - what are you doing here?"

Fred and George both tried to sit down at the same time - in the same chair - and one of them promptly slid off onto the floor. He got back up indignantly and glared at the other, who ignored him.

"We were sent to pick you up."

Harry was flabbergasted. "At five o'clock in the morning?"

The one not in the chair laughed. "Listen to him, Fred. From the way he talks you'd think he never heard of subterfuge before."

"We've been here most of the night, Harry," Fred explained. "They - that's to say, the, you know -"

"Yeah, I know," Harry said. "The bird people."

"Right. Anyway, they think there's someone - you know - watching the Floo. So we came at night . . . figured they'd be less likely to be looking for your escort at three in the morning, and nobody's stupid enough to let you try flying all the way to the Burrow on your own, not just now."

"I could have taken the Knight Bus," Harry said indignantly, although that had been the last thing on his mind.

"No, you couldn't," George cut in. "It was shut down by Rufus Scrimgeour. We were supposed to pick you up at ten o'clock, but -"

"Wait a minute. Shut _down_?" Harry asked incredulously.

The twins nodded. Mrs. Figg offered tea, which all of them absentmindedly accepted.

"But - why?"

"Same old reasons," Fred yawned. "Ernie's a Death Eater, Stan's a Death Eater, the whole wide world is made up of Death Eaters except old Rufus himself, so _to serve the better interest of the Wizarding community . . . _"

"_. . . that form of transport commonly known as the Knight Bus will not be operational until such time as it is deemed safe by the Department of Magical Transport,_" George mimicked, sounding uncannily like the Minister. Fred stood up.

"But anyway, we'd better be off, seeing as you're here, mate - thanks again, Figgy -"

"Er - why are you calling her Figgy? Where are we going? And - wait a minute - aren't I supposed to ask you lot questions, or something? In case you're -" Harry inquired as they left through the back door. Fred shrugged and cut Harry off.

"Everybody else does -"

" - and home, of course, Mum wants to see you -"

" - and sure you're supposed to _ask_, Harry -"

" - but what could we tell you that nobody else would already _know_?"

Harry stopped short. That was a good question. "Er . . . wait! How do you - er - the Map, how do you, you know, make it show up?"

"Map?"

"Yeah, you know, the Map you gave me - so I could get into Hogsmeade -"

The twins rolled their eyes as one. One of them hit the other one on the back of the head.

"And to think he's four years younger than both of us put together," the first twin said. "He's an absolute genius. No wonder Ron likes having him around. Why didn't _you_ think of the Marauders' Map, Fred?"

Fred rubbed the back of his head indignantly and hooked his finger at Harry, who understood this to be a signal to move closer.

"Tap it with your wand, mate, and say, 'I solemnly swear I am up to no good,'" he whispered.

Harry nodded. Fred rubbed his hands together. "Right, then, grab a hand, Harry."

"What -?" Harry stuttered.

"You can't Apparate - legally - yet, can you?" Fred raised an eyebrow.

"Er - well -"

"He can't, Fred, Mum said so. And you know what she'd do if she found out we were encouraging him to break the law - "

"She'd kill us."

"Precisely." George grabbed Harry's wrist with one hand, and the trunk handle with the other. "Get his other hand, Fred."

Harry frowned, and George hastened to explain. "It's safer for all of us if we just go together. _You_ don't have a license to Apparate, even, and since Rufus Scrimgeour is just itching for an excuse to put you out of the way -"

"Out of the _way_? As in, throw me into Azkaban?"

"More or less," Fred agreed. "Since you're not willing to be a Ministry slave. Ready? One - two - three -"

Harry felt the familiar, unpleasant sensation of being squeezed through a rubber tube, and several seconds later found himself tottering in the Weasleys' yard, scaring away the chickens who had been standing near where three young men and a school trunk had just appeared out of nowhere. Mrs. Weasley came hurrying toward them, Ginny following in a lavender-colored dress held up almost to her knees. The dress was very lacy, and when she saw Harry she grinned, then gestured toward the dress and made a face. Harry grinned back.

"Come inside, dears, we're having an early breakfast - Bill wants a word with you as soon as you've got time, Harry - and Fred, George, Charlie has something for you - it had better be something _legal_, you two, I know what kind of things you've been dragging through this house, and he has no idea what you wanted it for - Ginny, what are you doing outside? You're going to get absolutely filthy!"

Ginny rolled her eyes, but didn't dare make a face at her mother. "I just wanted to say hello to Harry, Mum."

"Well, you've said hello. Now get back inside, Fleur can finish pinning your dress, I have to get breakfast on the table - make sure she doesn't put that flounce in the back, it makes you look too short - we weren't expecting you so soon, Harry, what happened?"

Harry finished sorting through this myriad of statements and questions before answering. "Uncle Vernon wanted to give me an escort to the door," he finally said, at a loss. Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips but didn't say anything, choosing instead to shepherd Harry to a stool just inside the door, where she pressed a piece of toast into his hands. Bill dashed into the kitchen, grabbed a piece of toast off a plate, crunched into it, and ran back out. Harry was amused to see that Bill was only half-dressed - he was wearing an undershirt, trousers, and one boot, and as he thundered through the living room at top speed, Harry heard him bellow at Ron for taking the hairbrush. Harry was busy snickering when Ron came into the kitchen, acting very disgruntled. Bill dashed back through, both boots on his feet this time, buttoning up his dress shirt.

"Love you Mum - hello Harry - Ron, make sure Tomeu has food this morning when you take care of Pig, okay? Thanks - I'll be back - 'bye!" Bill vanished out the back door, his third piece of toast in his hand, his second piece stuck in his mouth. Harry stared after him curiously.

"Where's he off to in such a hurry?"

Fred and George - who had sneaked back into the kitchen while Harry was occupied with watching Bill, the human windstorm - snickered, while Ron looked revolted. Charlie chuckled as he sidled into the room behind them and started putting plates and bowls on the table. "He took three weeks off work after the wedding, so he's been trying to get ahead of schedule while he's got the chance. He's even been bringing stuff home with him. Fleur's going mad."

Harry got down off his stool and went to the cutlery drawer. "Why is she going mad?"

Charlie plunked down the last plate, got a tray full of cups and glasses out of the cupboard, and started setting them down in front of the small place settings. "She's trying to get the last little loose ends tied up, and he's sitting around saying 'uh-huh' and writing up account summaries. Kind of funny, really, if she wasn't taking it out on everyone else - Mum, when's that Margaret girl supposed to be here?" Charlie shifted topics without missing a beat. "I thought she was supposed to come up yesterday for the whatever-you-call-it-"

"Margot ees een _tranzit_, Charles!" Fleur wailed as she raced into the kitchen. "The Ministry, they do not want her in the country because she ees from France, but the war! Ze whole war ees already _een_ Britain, why are they trying to keep people out? Pins! We are wanting for pins, Ginny and I, the waist must be tucked if zere is no flounce or we will 'ave too much extra cloth -"

"In the basket under the rocking chair, dear," Mrs. Weasley supplied calmly.

"Fleur, slow down before you give yourself a brain aneurysm," Charlie advised. "I've been to loads of weddings in Romania and they always turn out all right. What good is it going to do you if everything looks great, and you're in St. Mungo's recovering from a breakdown?"

Ginny opened the kitchen door, her skirt swaying around her feet. "Mum, I'm hot -"

Mrs. Weasley rounded. "Out! Out, Ginny, you can't get bacon grease out of lace - change before you come in here, _please_ - and take that thing off, it's almost time for breakfast and you're not eating in that dress -" She pushed a cup of tea in front of Fleur, who groaned before pulling it toward herself and taking a long sip.

"Everything is going to be absolutely 'orrible . . ."

Harry was very glad when breakfast was served.

* * *

Bill got back to the Burrow around one in the afternoon, but Harry didn't get to talk to him until dinner, and only then because he got sandwiched between Ron and Ginny, across from Bill. Bill was sitting between Charlie and Fleur, who was unusually quiet. It was under the cover of the twins' noise that Bill asked Harry for a word at the end of the meal, and Harry nodded. The two got up from the table and strolled around into the front garden.

"So, Harry, what's new?" Bill asked, absentmindedly kicking a gnome into one of the many Wellington boots scattered around the yard. Then he kicked the boot. The gnome squealed (as much as a gnome was capable of squealing, anyway) and retreated for the relative safety of the bushes.

"Er, not much - I mean - well - nothing you don't know about already. How about you?" Harry watched the gnome's rapid progress.

"Actually, Harry, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." Bill sat down in a rickety old chair near the front steps. Harry didn't see another chair and was about to sit down on the ground when Bill's eyes flicked to the wand stuck in his back pocket, amused.

"Oh, yeah . . . " Harry pulled out his wand and conjured himself a rather lopsided - but functional - chair. Bill looked impressed.

"Not too bad for a first go," he observed. "Anyway, Harry, I wanted to ask you something . . ."

"Yeah?"

Bill stretched his legs out. "Well, we're having a bit of a problem with the wedding, Harry," Bill observed. "Other than the fact that I'm getting extraordinarily tired of wearing Glamour Charms all the time so I don't scare the hell out of people, that is." He ran a couple of fingers across his face. "It's not all healed yet. Even scars would be better than this."

Harry hadn't even noticed. He'd been too busy to think about much ever since he'd gotten to the Burrow that morning. First he'd taken a long nap, and when he got up Mrs. Weasley had practically begged him to help with making wedding food. "Er - right. Bill, I've never been to a wedding. Not even a Muggle one."

"That's fine, Harry. There's a rehearsal anyway. What I wanted to know was if you'd be a groomsman."

"A - what?"

Bill chuckled. "Well, you know what a bridesmaid is, right?"

"Sort of." A sudden thought dawned on him. "I wouldn't have to wear lace, would I?" Harry asked, horrified.

Bill laughed outright. "No way! A groomsman is - is - Charlie could explain it better than I could. He loves this kind of thing. It's sort of like a step down from the best man. The thing is, Ron was throwing a fit about walking with Gabrielle, and we couldn't put her with Percy because she's too short -"

"_Percy_ is in the wedding?" Harry injected, aghast. Bill nodded.

"I'll get to that. Anyway, we managed to talk Fleur into letting Hermione walk too, but that means we're short one on my side, and we're sort of trying to keep the whole wedding party as family."

"But I'm not -" Harry protested. Bill cut him off.

"Oh, please, Harry, Mum adopted you and Hermione years ago. I've got a picture of you two with Ginny and Ron on my desk at work, you know. One brother more or less, I never really bothered to keep track of them all," he chuckled. "Anyway, I've got a few friends who could do it, but it would look awfully queer to have someone my age in with a bunch of teenagers - well, Percy's not a teenager, but close enough - unless that someone was also family, and there's nobody else - Charlie's best man. We thought about asking one of the twins, but you know Fred and George - we'd have to find a fourth bridesmaid for that, and then it would look queer because only two of them would look alike. I wanted to ask you before I started hunting around among my friends, but it's been so busy . . . " On closer inspection, Bill did look extraordinarily exhausted. Harry wondered just how much work he'd been doing.

"Er - well - what does a groomsman _do_?" Harry pressed. Bill grinned.

"As Charlie so aptly put it to Ron, 'all you have to do is escort a girl down the aisle, stand and look pretty for twenty or thirty minutes, escort the girl back up the aisle, and dance once at the reception. Bill and I are the guys who do all the work.' Although I'd think that compared to wrestling a dragon, handing a few things to the groom would be practically a stop in a rest home."

"Stand and look _pretty_?"

Bill shrugged. "Charlie has a really weird sense of humor sometimes. But it's not hard, Harry, it's really not . . ."

Harry smiled a little. "Okay. So do I have to call you something special, or is Bill still okay?"

Bill laughed loudly. "Well, the twins call me a prat sometimes when they think I can't hear them, so I guess you can call me whatever you want. But Harry, I want you to stay away from Percy as much as you can help, okay?" he added, becoming suddenly somber.

"I guess so . . . why?"

Bill looked uneasy. "He's not himself lately, Harry. He's too . . . chirpy. I mean, I know part of it is the snob factor - Fleur's grandmother was part of the French Royal court, or something like that, that's where her surname comes from, and Percy's undoubtedly thrilled that someone in his family is marrying into nobility - I only found out a couple of weeks ago when her mother brought it up, Harry, don't look at me that way - but still, it's rather unnerving."

"You think he's faking it."

BIll nodded it. "That's a good way of putting it. He's - wearing a mask. And I'm not convinced it's a good mask he's hiding behind, Harry . . . "

"You think he's a Death Eater?"

Bill looked more uncomfortable than ever. "I wouldn't go that far, Harry, not yet, but . . . the questions he's been asking . . . the way he keeps harping on about the war . . . how happy he is that I'm showing respect for tradition in regard to the wedding . . . it's strange, all of it. I wanted to try and fix the rift between him and everyone else - that's why I asked him to be in the wedding - but now I'm not so sure I should have. And if he _is_ . . . well . . . you'd be the first one on his hit list, see? I don't want you to get hurt. You're a good kid, for one - well, I guess you're not really a kid, but you know what I mean - and Mum would kill me if she thought I put you in harm's way."

"So you don't think he's a Death Eater, but you don't think he's on our side, either?"

Bill considered his words carefully. "That's probably about as close as it gets. Percy . . . he's really ambitious. I've no doubt he could run against Scrimgeour and win, if he wanted to and he played his cards right - especially the way Scrimgeour's been going. Fred said he and George told you about the Knight Bus."

Harry nodded.

"What they didn't tell you was that Ollivander and Fortescue were also arrested on Scrimgeour's orders - we found out about a week into June. Madame Malkin isn't doing our robes for the wedding because she's in hiding, not because she doesn't do this kind of thing - he's after her for some reason. Fred and George moved out of Diagon Alley halfway through June when they found out he had an eye on them, too - apparently he thinks they're making too much to be legitimate. He hasn't seen half of what they're selling enough to know it's really good and perfectly possible for them to be making so much, either that or he doesn't care, as long as he's arresting people . . . and he's got it out for me, too. Apparently I'd make an 'interesting study case.' I don't know how they found out about Greyback and me, since I never went in to St. Mungo's."

"_WHAT?_" Harry was outraged. "Why haven't they arrested the people who run Borgin and Burke's? Or put more effort into finding the people they know really are Death Eaters? What about Dolores Umbridge? She tries to squash everyone down - everyone who cares - everyone who matters - the people who try to do the right thing - she'd as soon fight for Voldemort as for us - and -"

"I _know_, Harry, and it's about as fair for him to be arresting people this way as it is for him to be Minister, but we can't do much except keep our heads down and try to uproot Voldemort. My worry is that Voldemort got to Perce somehow - got it into his head that if he joined the Death Eaters, his ambitions would be fulfilled - and Percy's just thick enough to do it. Not that I think he's stupid, mind you," Bill added. "He's not stupid at all. In fact, he's an excellent strategist. But look at it this way, Harry, he doesn't trust Mum and Dad right now, and he thinks they've always told him wrong for some reason - so if they told him Voldemort is evil, that doesn't mean he really _is_, right? And if Voldemort said the right things . . . made the right hollow promises . . . that's my worry. So keep away from him if you can, okay, Harry? I know you want to get to the bottom of everything, but trust me, this is a bigger screw up than you or I could ever hope to fix, if it's true. You'd only get hurt, no matter how remarkable you might be."

Harry wanted to protest, but the look in BIll's eyes was too serious. "Okay."

* * *

"Where've you been, mate?" Ron queried as Harry cautiously opened the door to his best mate's room. It was as flamboyantly orange as ever, though the slanting, uneven ceiling had been somewhat evened out. Ron had announced proudly that this was the first thing he'd done once he'd gotten home, now that he was of age.

Harry shrugged. "Bill wanted to talk to me."

Ron looked revolted. "Oh. About the wedding, right?"

"Yeah."

Ron made a face. "I'll be glad when the whole thing is over. It's stupid, really . . . just because she's some kind of court woman, or something, everyone's got to go making fools of themselves . . . guess that's why Fleur came up with that . . . " He pointed to a set of brown-and-cream-colored robes on Harry's bed. Harry examined them warily.

"What's this?" He held up something that looked suspiciously like an very long, wide ribbon.

Ron looked up from cleaning Pigwidgeon's cage. "Sash for your waist. The narrow one goes over your shoulders. Bill's going to have to find you a pair of boots, we're all supposed to wear the same shoes . . . waste of time . . . " Ron continued muttering while Harry hung the robes on the hook next to the bed. He suspected it would be a long, long night.

* * *

The week passed quickly. Mrs. Weasley fitted Harry's robes the next day, and on Thursday they all worked busily on flowers. Harry had no idea why they needed so many of the things. Fleur's mother showed up around noon, at which point Mrs. Weasley stopped to make lunch. It had been completely forgotten in the rush. Harry wondered if all weddings were so much bother. On Friday night Bill told him and Ron to change into their robes and come downstairs. Harry ran into Gabrielle on the staircase, already in her lacy pink dress. She beamed at him and insisted on holding his hand the whole way down the stairs.

Harry stopped short at the bottom when he saw a very familiar, bespectacled face smiling - rather too largely - at him. Percy raised a hand.

"Hello, Harry!"

Gabrielle bounded off happily as Harry finished descending the steps, taking a close look at Percy as he did. He was reminded strongly of Percy's old boss, Bartemius Crouch; Percy had dark circles under his eyes, and the wary look in them belied the cheery greeting he'd given. Harry remembered what Bill had said about Percy and his ambition and knew that now, if ever, would be a bad time to disagree with anything the redhead said to him.

"Er - hullo, Percy," he returned, trying to figure out how to get both of them out into the living room with other people. "How are you - er - I mean -"

Percy laughed, but there was a note of unhappiness in it. "I know, I look a complete wreck. I suppose I'm as well as can be expected, given the circumstances . . . It's madness, Harry, complete madness . . . the whole Ministry's in an uproar . . . I've been doing extra hours for weeks now, trying to keep up with all the arrests . . . I suppose you've heard about them in the _Prophet_ . . . "

"Yeah. Percy, you don't honestly think all those people could be guilty, do you?" Harry asked, feeling his way carefully. "I mean, isn't there some way to tell, or something?"

Percy stopped walking. Harry wished he hadn't said anything. Then Percy started speaking again. "I'm sure there has to be a way, Harry, we're all sure of it. The problem is finding out how we can tell - even the few we're absolutely positive _are_ Death Eaters won't say anything. It's incredible - you wouldn't expect them to be so loyal, would you? But I suppose the Minister has his own reasons for making those arrests, or they wouldn't be made."

I'll bet he has his own reasons, Harry thought but didn't say. Then they turned and walked into the living room, where Fleur dragged Percy away for something or other and Bill fell on Harry like a vampire on the pretense of straightening the sashes on Harry's robes and making sure his boots were laced properly so they wouldn't fall off.

"Harry, what did I tell you about keeping away from him?" Bill hissed as he tugged on the shoulders of Harry's robe.

"I tried!" Harry protested. "But he was waiting for me right at the bottom of the staircase and I didn't know how to get away . . . "

"So you hold a whole conversation with him instead of telling him you ought to hurry up?" Bill pulled Harry's glasses off his face and tapped the place where the glasses had been with his wand. Harry blinked. The room was clear. Bill gave him a wry smile.

"Only temporary, Harry, it doesn't last . . . but at least you look seventeen instead of twelve. You should really get something that's not so round. Ay, Mum! Doesn't he look better without his glasses?" Bill spun Harry around to face Mrs. Weasley, who immediately began to hold forth on Harry's looks. Harry shifted uncomfortably. Fleur grabbed his hand and pulled him over next to Ron. Bill stood in front of all six of them - Harry, Ron, Percy, Hermione, Ginny, and Gabrielle - and started moving them in front of each other as though he were lining them up for a Muggle photograph.

"I think you're going to go with Gabrielle the best, Harry, you're both the two shortest - Percy, are you taller or shorter than Ron? - I guess you're about even - no, wait, Ron's shorter - Ron, stop slouching! - Ron's still shorter, _that's_ a miracle - all right, Ron, you go with Ginny, and Percy can go with Hermione - stop _scowling_, Ron, it makes you look like a gargoyle. At least try to look happy. Charlie, where'd you go? And Margot - "

Charlie heaved himself up out of an armchair. Margot Celeste, a very thin girl with long blonde hair and a mole on one cheek, came out of the kitchen munching on a piece of celery. She eyed Charlie up and down judgementally before moving - very slowly indeed - to stand beside him. Bill motioned the two of them to switch sides with each other. Charlie did so with a cheerful shrug; Margot Celeste sighed and muttered in French under her breath. Bill stood back and eyed them all before turning to Fleur.

"All right?"

Fleur, who was busily scrubbing the high heeled dress shoes she was supposed to wear (they were supposed to be white, but time had changed them to an aged yellow), didn't so much as look up until Bill tapped her on the shoulder and repeated himself. She scanned the four couples carefully before wailing.

"'Is robes! Bill, zey are coming apart - coming right apart! Oh, _pourquoi est-ce que je nous ai pensés pourrais finir en seulement semaine_? _Pourquoi est-ce que rien n'ira bien_? (1) Everything ees a _mess_ . . . "

Everyone looked stunned as Fleur burst into tears. The only exceptions to the sudden shock were Percy, Hermione, Ginny, and Margot Celeste, who hurried to Fleur's side and began trying to comfort her. Bill made an attempt to hug her and was brushed off by Margot Celeste. Hermione began examining robes. The trouble turned out to have been Charlie, whose robes were indeed unravelling at the seams. As soon as he realized it he shrugged out of the over-robe, leaving him in a blouse and trousers (2). Hermione examined them and made a noise of disgust.

"Weren't these sewn after they were basted?" she asked Fleur, who seemed too senseless to answer. Mrs. Weasley picked up the robe and scrutinised it carefully.

"No, it wasn't - I thought maybe I'd simply miscounted because we had to finish Harry's later than the others - I was _positive_ I'd finished them all, I don't understand how I missed one," she stammered, quickly becoming almost as agitated as Fleur. Charlie patted her shoulder. "It's all right, Mum. It's not like it can't be fixed, right?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded before sweeping away to her rocking chair, where she gathered the loosening raw edges and ran her wand carefully along them in a straight line. The thread restitched itself tightly. She pulled on the robe from both sides to satisfy herself that it was solid this time, nodded approvingly, and handed it back to Charlie, who shrugged back into it before grabbing Margot Celeste and dragging her back into the party line. Bill finally got his chance to make an attempt at calming Fleur. He was far more successful than Margot Celeste. Ron glanced comically at Harry and shrugged cluelessly before Bill yelled at both of them to just once for the love of Merlin stand up _straight_. Fleur looked them all over carefully before giving a somewhat pale smile. Harry saw Bill let out a sigh of relief.

After the fiasco with Charlie's dress robes, everyone was somewhat afraid to move on - but move on they did. Once their walking partners had been determined they still had to determine a walking order, and there was a good deal of debate over how the parents were supposed to escort the bride and groom. Finally they managed to pare it down to Mr. Delacour and Mrs. Weasley, walking with their respective children. They managed a rapid practice of the ceremony and had all just sat down when the clock chimed.

The reaction was instantaneous. Charlie and Mrs. Weasley both dived in front of Fleur, holding up their arms to block her from view. Ginny clamped her hands tightly over Bill's eyes and refused to let go. Everyone else looked somewhat clueless. Bill was the first to voice an opinion.

"What the hell -?" he sputtered, before Mrs. Weasley, Charlie, Ginny, and Gabrielle all chorused, "You're not supposed to see the bride between midnight and the wedding ceremony!"

"Eet eez bad luck," Gabrielle added, looking very proud of herself as she smoothed out the front of her dress. Bill looked comically confused, the humorous effect heightened by the fact that Ginny still had the top of his face completely covered by her hands. Margot Celeste took Charlie's place in front of Fleur, and Charlie took off his neck sash so he could tie it over Bill's eyes before Ginny let go. Bill stood up, swayed, took two steps, and tripped over a footstool. He landed back-end first on the other side of the offending piece of furniture and then tipped it over vengefully with his foot. Several people laughed. Bill made another attempt to find his way to the stairs and walked right into a wall. Charlie rolled his eyes, grabbed his brother's wrist, and led him out of the room, muttering under his breath about people with absolutely no sense of direction.

* * *

"So what are they doing now?" Harry asked Ron, as they trooped up the stairs to the bedroom fifteen minutes later. Ron shrugged.

"Probably sleeping. We've got to be up again at seven," he groaned. "The wedding doesn't even start until eleven. What do they want us up at seven for?"

Harry shrugged. "Make sure everything gets done, I guess," he offered. "Or maybe they just want to make sure that everyone has a chance to use the toilet."

Ron roared laughter. "In that case, Harry, let's get up at six."

Harry just smiled to himself as Ron set the alarm clock for seven-fifteen.

* * *

(1) Fleur is lamenting that nothing seems to be going right. It's a proven fact that when you are agitated, you will always speak in your mother tongue even if you're fluent in another language.

(2) In American, "dress shirt and pants."


	2. The Wedding

Here's the next chapter, sorry it took so long. I've got a lot of real life stuff on my plate just now - but I finished it all the same!

Enjoy!  
Haruka Lune

* * *

As it transpired, the alarm clock was unnecessary; Harry and Ron were awakened by Ginny, who had been shaken awake by Hermione, who woke up when she heard Charlie's footsteps coming clearly through the ceiling of the girls' bedroom. The entire group trooped into the kitchen, where they downed a hasty breakfast. Fleur was eating in the bedroom, and so didn't see the scene caused by Margot Celeste when Bill walked into the kitchen, his face uncamoflauged for the first time since June.

Harry didn't want to admit it, but he could understand her horror, if not her rude reaction. Several thick, raised red lines travelled across Bill's nose and cheeks. The corner of his mouth was somewhat twisted from scar tissue. His eyes were intact, but a slash directly across the eyelid that ran all the way back into his hair showed just how close a call that had been. The collar of his robe hid some of the damage; Harry could see places where it continued all the way down his neck, disappearing into fabric. All was well until he pushed his still-untied hair out of his face so he could sit down. Then the early-morning light hit him full in the face, and Margot Celeste screeched.

Harry and Ron both looked up, startled, as a resounding crash sounded through the room. A chair was laying on the floor. Margot Celeste was pointing to Bill and wailing in French. Bill answered her at first, making an admirable effort to stay calm. What remained of his face was turning an angry, flushed red. The fiasco culminated when Margot Celeste slammed her hand down on the table, turned, and hurried up the stairs, presumably to Fleur. Bill returned, with some effort, to his bacon. Charlie, who had entered the kitchen just as Margot Celeste ran out, plopped down next to him and reached for a piece of toast.

"As bad as all that, huh?" he asked. Bill shrugged.

"I guess she'll get over it."

* * *

Margot Celeste did not get over it. As it turned out, she refused to be in a wedding for a "monster," which left Fleur without a maid of honor - something that was, apparently, quite serious; Charlie the wedding-lover was practically beside himself, and even Ron looked concerned. Seven o'clock came and went; with four hours to go, they were missing one of the most important women in the wedding after the bride herself. Fleur was almost in tears.

Hermione and Ginny, who had been speaking in low voices in the corner, proved to be their salvation. After pulling Fleur aside and speaking with her fervently for some ten minutes, Hermione asked Mrs. Weasley if she could use the Floo. The result, an hour and a half after the whole fiasco began, was that Luna Lovegood was taking Ginny's place, and Ginny was standing in for Margot Celeste. Ginny and Luna, luckily, were within an inch of each others' heights; Luna could simply walk with Ron, who looked rather pensive about the whole situation. Fleur hurried Ginny upstairs; Mrs. Weasley shepherded Luna into Ginny's bridesmaid dress so she could make sure it fitted properly, and Charlie dragged Bill out of the kitchen and upstairs to get dressed as soon as the coast was clear. Hermione shrugged at Harry's questions as the two of them, with Ron, hurried up to the landing where Hermione would leave them to get dressed.

"I know it's not _perfect_, Harry," she said again, sounding very exasperated, "but what else could we do? I don't _like_ Fleur, exactly, but we couldn't leave her just standing there. The maid of honor is really important in a Wizarding wedding." She opened the door to the room she was sharing with Ginny and Fleur cautiously, unsure of whether or not they were dressed yet.

"I know I do not always treat you like you would like to be treated . . . but I do not have a sister like you. I think sometimes that you are still very young, but you are not, and that is hard for me to understand - hold still - there. Gabrielle, today, she would have cried - she would not have found a way! You - you are smarter, because you are older, and I forget that. It is not an easy thing to remember, always. But I hope that you will be my sister now, and that you will forgive me, yes?"

Harry and Ron peeked around Hermione's shoulder. Fleur was pinning up Ginny's hair carefully. Ginny smiled partly at her own reflection, and partly at Fleur.

"I can't ever get it to look like that."

"Your 'air is too long to curl it from the bottom upward. You must curl it so it 'angs down, in spirals, and zen - then - you will be able to put it up. It is too pretty to leave it down all ze time like a curtain, like you are trying to 'ide yourself from ze world! When you pull it back - so - you look so much older . . . "

Hermione slipped into the room, quietly picked up her dress, and sneaked back through the door before closing it. She smiled and shrugged at Harry, who was trying to figure out how she intended to change into the dress if she wasn't in the bedroom.

"I'll just use the bathroom," she whispered, when he asked. "I think they need to talk."

* * *

It took Harry fifteen minutes to realise he wasn't doing something right; Ron was dressed and brushing his hair (although he was doing a good deal of grumbling about it), and Harry was still trying to lace up his boots so he could put the outer robe on. Not wanting to deal with Ron's mood, he sought out Bill, who probably knew what he was doing better than Ron did anyway.

He found Bill, with Charlie - even better - in what he assumed to be Bill's bedroom (he based this assumption on the large map of Giza hanging next to the window and the long black trenchcoat thrown over a chair that looked like it would break if anyone actually attempted to sit on it). Bill was trying to do something to his hair that was presumably more formal than the usual ponytail, but he kept getting it wrong because his hands were shaking. Charlie finally swatted Bill's hands away and did - whatever it was - himself, chiding Bill the whole time.

"I can't believe you've been trapped inside a pyramid for sixteen hours when part of it caved in and you didn't panic, and _now_ you're terrified," he teased, crossing one lock of hair over the other. "It's only a wedding, and - I mean, you love her, right?"

Bill didn't answer, but Harry caught his expression, clearly reflected in the mirror on the back of the bureau. He wondered if Bill was listening at all; it didn't look that way. On the contrary, he looked like he couldn't remember something he knew to be important, even though he knew he ought to remember it. Charlie rapped him on top of the head, rather sharply, with his knuckles.

"Hello, Earth to Bill, did you get lost in there?" He picked up a black ribbon from the top of the bureau and started tying it around the hair tie at the end of what Harry now recognised as a braid. Bill shook his head slightly. Charlie made an irritated noise as the ribbon came loose. Bill smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry. Just - thinking. I mean, if you'd told me a year ago what I'd be doing today . . . "

". . . you'd have told me to lay off the butterbeer," Charlie finished. "But that was a year ago. There's been a lot that's changed, and -"

The sentence finished itself, apparently, because they both fell silent for the few seconds remaining while Charlie finished with the ribbon, stepped back, eyed it, shook his head, and then tugged it off.

"Too girly. You sure you don't want to just tie it up here, like normal?"

Bill shrugged. "Whatever. You're the one they're going to hold responsible no matter how it looks, so - hello, Harry, how long've you been standing there?" he finished, catching sight of Harry in the mirror. Harry grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "Just a couple of minutes. But I don't think the braid looks very good, either," he added, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. Who was he to be offering an opinion on hair? Charlie seized a hairbrush and started brushing it out viciously.

"See, I _told_ you, Bill, you can always count on two groups of people to give an honest opinion: the complete experts, and the people who are the exact opposite of complete experts. Although I would have preferred an opinion from someone with absolutely no hair at all. And since I've been working in a place where almost everyone has long hair - _really_ long hair - I qualify as an expert, so you can stop giving me that look right now. There. Now we can tie it here and - okay, we _can't_ tie it here, it has to be lower than that - okay, _here_. Good. Turn around so I can get the sash on."

Bill did as he was told. Harry suspected that wouldn't have been the case on any other day; right now, Bill was simply too nervous to do anything for himself. He also suspected that was the origin of Charlie's comment on experts; Charlie was trying to make Bill laugh. Harry could understand why. The last time he'd seen one of the Weasleys turn that pale, it had been Ron, right before he started vomiting up slugs back in their second year. Charlie clapped his older brother on the back.

"Come on, Bill, you're only setting a precedent for the rest of us and marrying this gorgeous court woman from France who thinks you're the best thing invented since the Golden Snitch. So no pressure, right?"

Bill managed to smile thinly before turning his attention to Harry again.

"Sorry, Harry, I keep forgetting you're here, you're so quiet. What's up?"

Harry held up his boots, somewhat embarrassed. "I can't get these laced. I don't know why, I didn't have a problem doing it last night . . ."

Bill took the boots and examined them closely before reaching for his wand. "You stretched the lace holes, that's why, Harry. You can't pull on soft shoes that way unless the lace holes are reinforced, and these aren't. Here."

Harry sat on the floor so he could tug on a boot. Bill tied it before he could protest. "I know they take a bit of getting used to. I just got so used to wearing them all the time myself that I never stopped to think about how long it took me to learn the right way to keep them on without yanking on the laces."

Harry tried to picture Bill in a pair of the soft, tan colored animal-hide boots and couldn't. He said so. Bill chuckled.

"That's because you never saw me wearing Egyptian clothing. You can't wear black in the desert, you'll cook. It's too hot. Most of us either went round in the skimpiest clothes decency would allow, or got used to wearing traditional clothes. One way or the other you had to keep yourself from getting heatstroke when you had to be out in the sun. Got a nice tan, though." He finished tying the other boot as Charlie snickered. Harry scrambled to his feet and reached for the robes he'd brought with him.

"Thanks. I'll just go finish now, okay?"

Bill shrugged. "May as well stay here. You don't know how to tie the sash. It's not supposed to be knotted."

"Then how do you keep it on?" Harry felt somewhat irritated. Why did there have to be so many rules about a silly set of wedding clothes? He shrugged into the outer robe. Charlie tied the waist sash, but made Harry learn how to do it. Having finished (finally succeeding on his sixth attempt), Harry had no idea what to do, or where he was supposed to go. He was still wearing his glasses, and nobody had told him where they were supposed to wait. Finally Bill noticed him still sitting uncertainly on the foot of the bed and performed the charm that rendered his glasses unnecessary. Harry didn't think he could have pronounced it if he'd tried. Charlie was complaining, in a not very serious sort of way, about having to wear a sash on his shoulders when he was the one who had to keep getting up and down and the sash was sure to fall off.

"I mean, honestly, Bill, who put it into your head to use Egyptian clothing? Why didn't you just, I don't know, use normal dress robes . . . or have us all wear dragonhide jackets and trousers, then we'd look like you. Only Mum would probably have a fit over that," he added thoughtfully. Bill chuckled, very slightly. Harry leaned forward expectantly. It was Bill's wedding, yes, and he had the right to do whatever he wanted with it, but Charlie did have a point. Why _were_ they wearing Egyptian robes?

"The twins started it, you know," Bill said, as he carefully pulled his own sash around his waist. "Fred - George - one of them - made some crack about how when one of us gets married, the whole _family_ gets married -"

"I remember that," Charlie cut in. "And then they were being all stupid, saying you should honeymoon in - where was it? - Greenland, or something. Marry the whole world."

"Right. And Fleur heard that, and - well, you know how she is once she gets an idea . . ." Bill grinned in a manner that Harry suspected was the closest he ever came to being sheepish. "She thought it would be - cute, I guess - to do this whole sort of international thing . . . I think she gave it up somewhere between the time she realized that most of the people in the wedding are British and the time I told her I'd never heard of _kisha_. Charlie had to fill me in on that one."

"Er, what's _kisha_?" Harry cut in, feeling very stupid.

Charlie grinned. "It's this wedding tradition in the Romanian Wizarding community - I've been to a couple of Muggle weddings and they didn't do it - where the bride and groom walk down the aisle, and then all the guests queue up and go up to kiss them. Good luck and best of wishes and many happy returns, and all that. Only you've got to watch out for the mothers of the bride and groom. They sort of tend to get a little carried away and then - well, you know how people cry at weddings - "

"Positive rivers," Bill nodded. "Anyway, she gave it up, but she still thought it would be nice to do a sort of tribute thing, I guess, since we're both sort of from other countries. I mean, she's French, and I lived in Egypt for almost ten years - there's going to be loads of people coming here from both places - so she had this idea to mix traditions from those countries into the wedding."

"She did a good job," Charlie observed. "It would have been a real mess if she'd tried to fit in everything. I can just see it now - Dad sitting in the front row snoring while the officiator stood there reading this positively massive list of ancient prayers off a papyrus scroll - and nobody able to understand them because they'd all be in Sanskrit or cuneiform or something like that - "

"That's at a funeral, Charlie," Bill protested, as he tied his own boots. "At a wedding they do blessings, and it's not that long. And they'd be translated anyway. Good luck and best of wishes and many happy returns and all that, as you put it."

"I'm still glad we're not doing it. When are we supposed to be downstairs, anyway?"

Bill shrugged. "No idea. Mum said she'd come up and get us, but she and Fleur's mum are really busy - Mum got Fred and George to clean up the gardens for the wedding, but they've still got to do chairs and the wedding arch and all that flowery rot - and I guess they want to make sure Fleur's out of the way. Bad luck to see the wedding dress . . . " Bill shook his head in disbelief. "Positively mad."

* * *

They didn't have to wait long for Mrs. Weasley to stick her head in the room and tell them to come downstairs. Harry ran into Luna on the landing. Fleur had carefully pinned her hair back, too, and she was wearing a wreath of flowers on her hair. The bridesmaids had carnations; Ginny would be wearing roses, which would be tucked into her hair a bit like a crown instead of a wreath. Harry had no idea why. Not for the first time, he felt extraordinarily ignorant. Everything in the wedding seemed to symbolise something else - luck, wealth, good fortune, and so on. Many happy returns, as Charlie had said. Luna smiled at him. Harry smiled back, but inwardly he felt as though someone had poured lead into his stomach. This was far more formal than anything he'd ever done before - what if he messed it up? What if he had to scratch his head during the ceremony? What was he supposed to do if Fleur or one of the bridesmaids fainted? What if Percy tried to hex him while everyone was watching Bill and Fleur?

That last thought wasn't the least comforting, though. Ron had been stalking around like a thundercloud all week. Harry hoped he wasn't going to try to foul things up on purpose. As he was thinking this, Ginny called him.

"Harry, we're supposed to be queuing up!"

"Er - sorry - where's Gabrielle?" he improvised, not wanting to look even more stupid, and realising that she wasn't waiting for him. At the mention of her name, Gabrielle hurried out of the kitchen and into the small column of girls standing next to the door. Luna slipped in between Gabrielle and Hermione. Harry stood next to Gabrielle, wishing Ginny hadn't had to become the maid of honor. At least then they would have been nothing but decorations _together_. The maid of honor actually had a purpose, though, according to Hermione - and she would know. Harry was sure she'd been reading up on Wizarding weddings as soon as Bill had announced his engagement.

Bill slid between the two lines, demonstrated briefly how to escort someone, and then hurried out the back door.

Harry stared as best he could out the window. Bill was walking down the aisle with Mrs. Weasley, who was thankfully not wearing a lacy pink dress but a simple cream colored one. Gabrielle poked Harry painfully in the side.

"'Arry, we are supposed to be going!"

Harry stepped forward, feeling stupider every second. They'd rehearsed this already, so why did he feel like he had no idea what he was doing?

At the back of the garden - which was the front of the altar - Charlie and Ginny stepped away from each other and stood in the places Mr. Weasley had marked in the ground with little colored pegs (since they'd never had a chance to actually practice outside; several people, most notably Charlie and Mrs. Weasley, were afraid they'd stand in reverse). Harry waited impatiently to reach the front of the aisle - Gabrielle was a cute kid, but her hand was making his arm uncomfortably hot.

At last he was able to go stand in front of his peg. Ron shifted forward a little so they were standing in the fan shape Fleur and Mrs. Weasley had described. Several people gasped. Harry stared back down into the crowd, convinced that some cataclysmic event had occurred.

The truth was that nothing overly remarkable had happened, beyond Fleur stepping out into the yard. Harry supposed people were always supposed to gasp and make fascinated noises when the bride walked down the aisle, but he didn't understand why. Fleur looked basically the same as she always did, except that she was wearing a fancy white dress with a long veil and carrying a bouquet of flowers. And, Harry supposed, she looked happy. That could make a big difference to some people. He stopped wondering about Fleur and concentrated on the ceremony instead.

Harry understood Charlie's perfectionist anxiety almost as soon as Fleur reached the altar. A small table of some kind was sitting behind him, and while the officiator - some man from the Ministry, Harry assumed - instructed Bill and Fleur to hold hands (Fleur had to pass her flowers to Ginny in order to do so), Charlie poured red-colored wine into a crystal goblet, which he handed to Bill. Bill drank from it and passed it to Fleur, who did the same. The goblet went back and forth until it was empty, and then Bill passed it back to Charlie, who placed the end of a gold-colored cord in Bill's hand in place of the goblet. Bill's fingers tightened around it while Charlie wound it around first his wrist, then Fleur's, back through, and then took the end of the cord from Bill and somehow connected the two ends without a knot. Harry blinked and tried to look more closely without being conspicuous. It had to be magic; there wasn't even a seam. The officiator murmured something about being "together as one" and taking vows. Bill started in with "I, William, join with thee, Fleur, . . . " and Harry more or less tuned it out until a few words later, when he realised that evidently the Wizarding wedding vow wasn't much like the Muggle version he'd seen on the telly once or twice. He listened more carefully when Fleur's turn came around.

"I, Fleur, join with thee, William, together as one mind, body, and heart, from now until death and beyond, in the infirmity or soundness of mind and body, in bad fortune or fair, with love, respect, equality, and faith, with no beginning or end. This I pledge solemnly to you."

Harry watched, rapt, as Charlie stepped forward again, said something or other about how he, Charles Prewett Weasley, witnessed this bonding, and so on. Ginny did the same, and pulled the shawl away from Fleur's arms. Then the officiator poured something that looked like water - but apparently wasn't -over Bill and Fleur's tied hands, and the cord disappeared. Charlie handed Bill the ring he was supposed to give Fleur, and Bill slid it onto her finger. On the other side, Ginny mimicked the action for Fleur, with Bill's ring.

It was then that the only hiccough in the whole ceremony occurred. The officiator asked Fleur if she took William to be her lawfully wedded husband, and she answered "I do." The officiator turned to Bill and repeated the question, substituting "Fleur" and "wife" for "William" and "husband." Bill suddenly seemed to blank out. Harry was reminded strongly of his sudden absentmindedness in the bedroom upstairs. Charlie surreptitiously poked Bill in the back. Bill blinked and then smiled. "Yeah. Yes, I do." The officiator nodded, but Harry exchanged a knowing look with Ginny across the aisle. What had that all been about?

Bill pulled up the veil, after a momentary search for the edge of it (several people chuckled kindly), and then Ginny reached up and carefully unpinned it so she could hand it to Charlie. Charlie picked up the wine goblet, wrapped it carefully in the veil, and then folded a piece of dark blue cloth over it before setting it down by Bill's foot. Harry glanced at Bill's face and saw an expression he was at a loss to name - the closest he could come was a little boy who'd been told that he could have all the cookies he wanted; something along the lines of "oh-boy-I-can't-believe-I'm-actually-allowed-to-do-this." Then Bill stepped on the goblet.(1) It cracked, and his smile got even wider. Then he started laughing just as Fred and George hooted their approval.

Everyone started clapping and cheering, even Ron. Harry didn't think he'd noticed Bill and Fleur kissing; he didn't think Ron would ever quite get used to that. Music started up somewhere, and Harry, remembering his cue with relief, stepped forward to the aisle and escorted Gabrielle back down it. They were supposed to stand to the side and wait for Bill and Fleur to walk between them, and then they'd follow them inside in reverse order. Harry looked back up the aisle, watching Bill escort Fleur down the aisle. Halfway back, he stooped down and picked her up. Fleur let out a sort of surprised almost-squeal, and several people stopped conversing with each other to laugh kindly. The back door opened as Bill carried her through the back arch, Percy and Ron filed out, and Harry followed them.

* * *

It took only fifteen minutes to get food and tables set up in the back, thanks to several people with good conjuring skills and the almost militant food tray-carrying pattern Mrs. Weasley and Madame Delacour had arranged. Right now they were both sitting at the kitchen table, hugging each other and crying. Harry tried not to stare as he skirted past them with a large platter of chicken.

Charlie didn't waste any time on such niceties. His mouth was twitching as he lugged a couple of buckets of ice cubes into the garden, and by the time he came back he was laughing helplessly. He swooped down on his mother and hugged her.

"Come on, Mum, it's a wedding. You're supposed to be happy. And just imagine - by next Christmas you'll have two or three mini-Bills running around here. You can pull out all those old baby pictures you're always threatening him with and we'll all have a good laugh. Mum, don't cry. Please?"

Mrs. Weasley managed to laugh, although the laugh was watery and ended on the sort of hiccoughing noise that meant she was still crying in spite of Charlie's cheerful remonstrances. "I just can't believe he's _old enough_ to get married," she said, sniffling into a handkerchief. "I still remember having to haul him in out of the back yard by the straps of his overalls because he wouldn't come in for his bath. Where did the last twenty years go?"

Charlie shrugged. "I think those were my overalls, Mum. Bill was only wearing them. He always had to roll up the legs because I was taller than him back then."

Mrs. Weasley gave that funny laugh again. Bill came into the middle of this chaos with his over-robe and sash missing, but the rest of his clothing intact. Fleur followed behind him in a different pair of shoes (Harry assumed this choice was for comfort, although he couldn't understand why women insisted on wearing uncomfortable shoes in the first place) and no shawl. Apparently they were trying to be as comfortable as possible for the next several hours, when they had to walk around and talk to people and dance. Dance. Harry shuddered and almost dropped the large bowl of punch he was carrying. He did _not_ want to dance.

* * *

Luck ran Harry's way for awhile, at least. He had to help bring out the big dishes, and after that Mrs. Weasley and Madame Delacour did everything. Once his place in the kitchen was over he had to stand in something Charlie called a "receiving line," which wasn't hard at all - he just had to smile and say hello to people, most of whom he didn't know. When all the food had been brought out Madame Delacour pointed him toward a long table sitting in front of the marriage arch. He was supposed to sit there, she told him, and Bill or Fleur would tell him where exactly he was supposed to be. Harry glanced at the other tables that filled the yard and back at Madame Delacour with a questioning glance. She smiled and shrugged and pointed toward Fleur; Madame Delacour spoke very little English. Harry followed her nonverbal advice and attempted to make his way to Fleur, who was chatting happily with one of her friends. She broke off whatever she was saying and switched from French to English.

"Jeanette, this is 'Arry - 'e is a friend of William's younger brother - and 'Arry, this is Jeanette, a friend from Beauxbatons. She 'as been saying that Madame Maxime 'as been talking about leaving the school!"

Harry tried to look shocked. The truth was that Madame Maxime was part of the Order - if the Order still even existed, he thought fleetingly, and felt an old, sore ache of grief - and Harry figured she was probably more needed here than at some school in France. Fleur sighed before slapping on a smile.

"You need something, 'Arry, yes?"

Harry shrugged. "I was just wondering why I'm supposed to sit up there." He pointed at the long table. Fleur and Jeanette laughed, and he felt his cheeks turning red. Fleur patted his shoulder.

"It is the table for the wedding party, 'Arry. We will all be sitting there when we eat."

Harry smiled and nodded and left, having received one answer and ending up with more questions. Wasn't _this_ the wedding party? Harry felt that old feeling of stupidity creeping up on him again. A hand clapped him on the shoulder and he turned to see Percy, back in his glasses (the spell Bill had used was extremely temporary), grinning as widely as ever.

"Harry! Good to see you, I wanted to have a word this morning before the wedding -"

"Percy, what's a wedding party?" Harry blurted out, feeling more ignorant than ever as soon as the words had left his mouth. Percy looked startled; Harry had the feeling he'd derailed a long train of thought.

"Oh! Well, the wedding party is the people who took part in the wedding - that's to say the bride, groom, best man, maid of honor, bridesmaids, groomsmen, and the parents of the bride and groom. They like to have those people sitting separately during the meal so they can do toasts and things without everything looking disorganised. Technically Father and Madame Delacour aren't part of the wedding party, but it's considered bad ettiquette to split up a married couple when you're seating them. If you want to go find your name card, I don't think anyone would care. We'll be sitting down soon anyway."

"Er - name card?"

"At most formal events where there's assigned seating you'll have a card with your name on it sitting at your place setting," Percy explained airily. "You won't be on either end or in the middle here, though - that's where the parents and the bride and groom sit, with the maid of honor and best man next to them." He drifted away to accost one of Bill's friends, who apparently worked at the Egyptian Ministry of Magic. Harry cast a quick glance to make sure Percy wouldn't be coming back, and then hurried up to the table. He found his place between Ginny and Hermione and sighed in relief. Gabrielle was sitting between Charlie and Percy on the other side. Ginny saw him and smiled. The white roses were still in her hair, but as she turned toward some friend of the family Harry saw one fall out. He slipped between two chairs and picked it up. Charlie ushered Bill, both of themlaughing at something,up to what Harry was beginning to think of as the wedding table, and he hurried to sit down. He didn't want to be the last one standing.

* * *

The meal passed quickly; Harry had glanced down both ends of the table and had determined that the Delacours were sitting on the far end of his side of the table, next to Hermione. Ginny was sitting next to Fleur, and on the other side Charlie was sitting next to Bill. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were all the way at the other end, next to Percy. Harry could only imagine the fights there must have been over that. The Delacours should have been sitting with Gabrielle, too, now that he thought of it; Madame Delacour spoke barely any English, and Fleur's father didn't speak any at all. Maybe this was some kind of attempt to make them mingle. Harry thought, considering what Bill had said about trying to bring Percy back into the family, that the idea of mingling was the most plausible.

He was interrupted in his musings by Charlie, who was tapping his table knife against his wineglass. It was a sound Harry would forever associate with Professor McGonagall as her part in the Welcoming Feast at Hogwarts. He felt the knot that had been tied around his stomach once again and had to swallow hard. He wished Dumbledore could have been here; he would have been at his finest, Harry was sure. He was the kind of wizard who would have enjoyed a wedding. Harry had just begun to worry that he would make Bill and Fleur look like fools by starting to cry when Charlie saved him by standing up. A hush fell over the garden.

"Just a minute? Okay, right, thanks." Charlie picked up his suddenly-full wineglass. Fleur was blushing. "It's not easy being a younger brother, you know," Charlie said. The entire garden seemed to be hanging on his every syllable. Harry wondered how Charlie could stand that kind of scrutiny - Ron would have folded up and died.

"I always worried, when I was a kid, that someday some girl was going to steal my older brother and I wouldn't have anyone to look up to anymore. We always had this kind of, this sort of friendly sibling rivalry going, and I was sure that I'd have absolutely no idea what to do with myself if Bill got married."

Ginny poked a very sharp elbow into Harry's side. "Smile a little, can't you?" she whispered through her teeth. Harry tried to comply as Charlie continued.

"I have to admit I panicked when Bill told me he was engaged, because I didn't want him to get married. I felt like I'd be losing something special because Bill's always been not just my brother, but my best friend. It took a lot of paper shuffling for me to get here, so I only met Fleur about two weeks ago. As soon as I did, though, I knew I wasn't going to lose anything. She's warm, and friendly, and she values family above everything else, which is why I feel that I didn't lose a brother. I always wanted a second sister as much like the first one as possible, and now I have one. And I hope she'll be around for a long, long time. Welcome to the family, Fleur." Charlie hoisted his glass in the general direction of Bill and Fleur and then took a sip. Applause broke out all over the garden as people joined in the toast. Harry took a cautious sip of wine and grinned while Ginny blushed. He supposed that, coming from Charlie, the idea that Ginny was like Fleur was high praise.

Harry watched as Bill and Fleur stood up and moved into the central part of the garden, which was free of tables. Someone started some music, and they danced. Charlie and Ginny got up next, followed by the Delacours and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and then Hermione was poking Harry's other side and telling him they were supposed to get up and dance. Harry got it over with as soon as he possibly could. Gabrielle spoke English, but it was so heavily accented that she was almost impossible to understand. Harry broke away from her at the first opportunity and sat down with Charlie at one of the smaller tables. Ron and Hermione joined them shortly. Hermione was in the middle of some kind of speech on Wizarding marriage traditions.

"- all very interesting, and I especially liked the seamless cord, but I don't understand the goblet. Why did he have to smash the goblet? I didn't see that when I was looking up different ceremonies and things -"

Charlie grinned knowingly at Ron, who looked perplexed, and then put a hand on Hermione's arm. She silenced at once.

"It's a very old Wizarding custom, Hermione," Charlie began, and Harry scooted his chair closer. He'd been wondering about the goblet, too. "It started some time back in the middle ages, about 1200 or so - see, back then you were supposed to pledge yourself only to your husband, and things like that, but people were ignoring that, and diseases were getting really spread around because of it. So this custom got started that you break a wineglass to seal your vows, but there was a charm on the wineglass so it could only be broken if the bride was a virgin. If it didn't break, you were dishonoring your family, which was a big deal back then. Eventually the whole gender double-standard thing was broken down and the charm was expanded to include the groom, but it's sort of - evolved - over time, so there are all different kinds of charms that deal with it. I think Bill and Fleur used the original, though - the original that was expanded, I mean."

Hermione made some kind of noise, which she quickly muffled in her hands. Charlie turned to her.

"What?"

Hermione shook her head, but didn't take her hands away from her mouth.

"I think she's surprised that Bill - you know - " Harry cut in, and then broke off. Charlie laughed.

"Oh. That." He drained a glass of punch that had been sitting in front of him. "That's because you lot didn't grow up with our mum. I don't think I'll ever forget, when I was fifteen and I got a letter by owl post from this girl in my class - 'women are not _toys_, Charles, they should be treated with _respect_ and _dignity_, and if I _ever_ hear that you've been acting inappropriately -'" Charlie broke off from his imitation of Mrs.Weasleyand gave Ron a knowing smile. "You're nodding. You just got this talk, didn't you?"

Ron turned red and mumbled something noncommittal. Charlie chuckled.

"It never changes. Ever. It's always the same. I swear, I bet I could go back in time and hear our grandmother giving the same identical speech - same words and everything - to Uncle Gideon and Uncle Fabian. Even Fred and George didn't get out of it. Well - she talked, but I'm not sure they listened, actually. They probably just kind of pretended to."

All four of them laughed, but Harry's merriment faded as Percy sat down, straightening his robes as he did.

"Marvellous day, really, sky's so clear," Percy commented. Charlie turned to him.

"Perce, you haven't heard from Oliver lately, have you? Dumb sod said he'd be here, but Bill said he never even answered the invitation . . . "

"Oliver _Wood_?" Harry asked, startled, as Percy shrugged and shook his head. Charlie smiled reminiscently.

"Sure, Oliver Wood. I was the one who put him on the team (2), Harry. Sort of. He was in first year when I was in seventh, and near the end of the year our Keeper - well - well, she sort of just dropped out."

"Why?" Harry asked, more curious than ever. He hadn't known that Charlie had been Quidditch Captain, too.

Charlie made a face. "We weren't ever told, but I think I could make a few educated guesses. She left school around then, too. Anyway, we only had one game to go, and here I am telling our Chasers that they've got to do double time as both Keeper and Chaser because I couldn't find anyone decent to play - Ruben Andrews actually scored for what would have been the other team in a real game,when I lobbed one at him and he whacked it with his broom tail in the wrong direction - and we're getting ready to go out for the Cup, all of us scared witless because we have two days to go, and this little - this - " Charlie made motions that were apparently supposed to indicate a boy about the size of Colin Creevey before continuing - "this _midget_, practically, walks up to me in the hall between Charms and Transfiguration and says he can play. I told him I'd try him out if he could get a decent broom by dinnertime, and he went to just about every single person in Gryffindor House - and a few in Ravenclaw, we were going up against Slytherin and nobody wanted them to win because - never mind, long story. Anyway, he walks up to me at the dinner table and tells me he borrowed a Nimbus from one of the Ravenclaw prefects. I had three people shooting at him for twenty minutes straight - because that's how Slytherin played back then, I wanted to be sure he could handle it - and he didn't miss once. Phenomenal. We won two-hundred-ninety to ten. And now that little midget's playing for Puddlemere United. I wasn't sure whether to slap him in the head or on the back when he told me that. What's he supposed to do in ten years when he can't play anymore?"

Ron made a face. "Ludo Bagman played for fifteen years, Charlie, and _he_ -"

"- became an internationally wanted crook, Ron," Charlie interrupted as Fred and George sat down. Percy looked somewhat disgusted at being sandwiched between them and walked away, mumbling something about getting a drink. One of the twins snickered.

"Shut your trap, Fred, he's _trying_," Charlie admonished. Harry gaped. How could he tell them apart? Ron looked mildly startled and then brushed it off. Charlie bounced to his feet suddenly. The twins followed suit.

"There goes a fine man, boys, let's all give him a moment of silence," Charlie intoned gravely, and he, Fred, and George all crossed their hands and bowed their heads solemnly (all three of them doing so at the exact same time) as though they were in mourning. Bill, who was walking past (and who was apparently the object of their attentions), gave them all a look that said more clearly than any words that he was _not_ amused.

"Very funny, Charlie," Bill said, rolling his eyes and advancing on them. Charlie clapped both hands over his ears protectively. One of the twins put his hands on top of his own head, and the other grabbed his stomach. Ron snickered. Harry laughed quietly at what seemed to be a very old game. After determining that Bill wasn't in a hitting kind of mood, they all plunked back into their seats - in unison. Harry found this somewhat unnerving, but didn't say anything. Bill pulled out the chair that Percy had been sitting in, sat down, stretched his legs out, and pulled a small bottle of Muggle root beer from his pocket. Ron raised his eyebrows. Bill took a long swig from the neck of the bottle before setting it down and letting out a long sigh.

"I didn't think she was ever going to let go," he confided, nodding toward Fleur. She was dancing with her father. "Not that I care, mind you, but a man's got to sit down sometime."

"This coming from the man who shimmied down a burial shaft, fell, broke a foot, and walked on it that way for three hours until somebody noticed the bruise creeping up his ankle?" Charlie commented, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. Bill cuffed him in the ear. Charlie yowled in protest.

"That's different, Charlie, that was my _job_." The twins snickered again. Bill shot them a dirty look. "And besides, walking isn't dancing, with all these fancy turns and whatnot -"

" - and the unique opportunity to step on the hem of your new bride's dress and both have to sit down so you don't _fall_ down," Charlie interjected. Bill shrugged bemusedly.

"Mum said I was handsome. She never said I could dance."

At that, everyone started laughing. The song ended, and Fleur crossed the dance floor to sit down with them. Harry had to admit that, in Bill's favor, Fleur's dress was extremely long - the skirt was attached to a band, which was in turn attached to what Mrs. Weasley had called a corsage, that went around Fleur's wrist. The skirt came up to her wrist at that point so it was pulled up a little in the front. Ginny had informed Harry that the band was there so Fleur wouldn't have to keep holding the skirt up all the time, since the skirt was longer than she was tall. Although that arrangement did allow her to walk without stepping on the skirt, Harry rather fancied it would be rather difficult to dance in it without either person stepping on it. Fleur hitched the edge of the skirt into her lap and ran her wand along it to repair the slightly torn hem. Then she smiled at Bill, who was surreptitiously watching her over the rim of his bottle.

"I told you it could be fixed. You see, you almost cannot see the seam - and it is at the bottom. It will not matter. Who looks for a seam in lace?"

Bill made a face that apparently indicated confusion - Harry couldn't tell, mainly because the scar across Bill's eye kept him from opening it all the way. Fleur laughed and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. Charlie stage-whispered something about the kiss of death, and Fleur started laughing again.

"Eet - it - is not the kiss of death, Charles!" she protested, and Charlie winced. Harry grinned at him as Professor McGonagall, wearing emerald-green dress robes, strode up to the table. His grin faded almost immediately. He liked McGonagall, of course, but she wasn't Dumbledore. Ron looked as though he felt about the same. McGonagall extended a hand of congratulations to Bill, and then nodded to Charlie, Ron, and the twins before turning and smiling, very faintly, at Harry. It was a smile he understood from all the times he'd been in her office - it's all right, I'm on your side, lighten up - and he found himself smiling back. Then McGonagall turned again, this time to Fleur.

"Miss Dela - Mrs. Weasley, your mother is looking for you." Harry and Ron smirked at each other as Fleur, who looked extremely startled at being so addressed, thanked McGonagall and hurried off to find Madame Delacour. McGonagall took the seat Fleur had been sitting in. Bill suddenly appeared somewhat panicked.

"No, no, don't say anything," he held up a hand before McGonagall could say a word, "they don't know yet."

McGonagall gave him a somewhat incredulous look. Charlie turned to stare at his older brother. Everyone else leaned forward a little. Bill had the grace to blush, raising his hands and shrugging. "I didn't want anyone to know until - oh, well."

"So what exactly are we not supposed to know yet?" Charlie inquired. The twins started laughing. Bill made a face. "Well . . . Mum knows, and Dad and Fleur know, of course, but . . . "

"Come on, Bill what _is_ it?" Charlie persisted. Bill relented, grinning.

"The reason I've been doing so much work at Gringotts. They needed things in order, because I'm quitting."

A stunned silence washed over the table, followed by one of the twins saying, "You've got to be out of your mind, mate."

Bill shook his head. "No, I decided to take a different job. Something more exciting than 'at what time was this withdrawal made?' and all that rot."

Hermione gasped. Harryblinked in surprise. He'd forgotten she was there."You mean - you're going to - "

" - be teaching at Hogwarts, yes, take a breath, Hermione," Bill finished for her, grinning wryly. "I didn't want to tell you lot because I wanted to see the looks on your faces when I was introduced, but - well -"

"What are you teaching?" Ron interrupted. He clearly didn't care about dramatic effect. Bill grinned.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts, obviously, Ron, what else - "

"But you can't!" Harry interjected, panicked. He liked Bill. "You can't, it's - "

" - cursed by Voldemort, I know, I know, we - that's to say . . . you know, the party we had . . . "

Harry nodded to show he understood. Bill was talking about the Order.

"Well, Dumbledore left all kinds of records, so we know. That's _why_ I'm doing it."

"_What?_" Harry stared. Bill grinned.

"I spent ten years as a Curse Breaker against some of the nastiest traps known to wizardkind, Harry. If I can't figure it out by the last week of term, I'm going to resign a day early and see what that does."

"Lupin did that," Harry protested, and Bill shrugged.

"Can't tell you anything else, Harry, just don't panic, okay? It's going to be fine." Bill frowned suddenly at the group of giggling French girls standing up near the front table. "What the - "

Fleur came hurrying down to their table. "Professor, you are not married, yes?"

Professor McGonagall blinked in surprise. Harry couldn't blame her - Fleur had a bad habit of mixing things - pronouns, tenses, and so on - when she was excited, and it made her extremely hard to understand sometimes. McGonagall looked as though she were hoping someone could explain Fleur's comment, but no explanation proved to be necessary, for Fleur carried on.

"We are trying to find all the unmarried women to throw the bouquet, my mother says it is bad luck to leave anyone out, and so I am asking everyone, all the women that is - and you do not wear a wedding ring, so you are not married, I am right?"

McGonagall shook her head to indicate that no, she wasn't married. Fleur grabbed her hand excitedly. "Then you must come and be part of the ceremony, it is good luck!"

McGonagall allowed herself to be led away, but Harry was much mistaken if she actually understood what was going on. That wasn't news; once again, he was completely in the dark. Charlie chuckled and leaned over.

"Fleur's got to throw the wedding bouquet to see who's going to be married next," he explained. "It's this really old tradition that whoever catches it is supposed to be married within a year."

Harry had a sudden mental image of McGonagall in Fleur's lacy white dress, and snorted laughter. Ron joined him. Hermione sniffed disapprovingly and had just opened her mouth to say something when Fleur came back, grabbed her hand, and led her off into the knot of girls. They spread out into a fan shape. Charlie raised his arms above his head.

"Ooh! Me! Me! Let me catch it!"

Bill swatted him on the ear again. Charlie didn't yowl this time; he just snickered.

"Don't forget, it's your turn next, O Great Married One," he teased, and Bill picked up a waterglass that was sitting on the table. He held it over Charlie's head.

"One more crack, brother mine who came with his best friend because he didn't have a date and couldn't find one, and this goes right down the back of your shirt, you get it?"

Charlie pouted. "I could so have had a date if I wanted, Bill, I just - _hey!_" The girls up front were squealing. Harry caught just a glimpse of a very flustered Minerva McGonagall, holding Fleur's roses and lilies in her hands, before Charlie slapped Bill on the back, hauled him to his feet, and yelled for a chair, which the date of one of Fleur's friends quickly procured. Two of the girls pushed Fleur down into the chair and started to giggle. Harry stood up for a better view.

"What's going on?" he asked, hoping the twins would have an answer. They did.

"He's got to throw the garter," one of them said. (3)

"But first he's got to get it off, Fred," the other one (George, apparently) added.

"Yeah, without using his hands," Fred snickered.

"How's he supposed to get it off if he can't use his hands?" Harry asked, feeling more confused than ever. George hauled him to his feet.

"His teeth. Come on, Harry, we're supposed to be up there."

"Right, it's bad luck if we get left out," Fred added, before dissolving into laughter.

"Wait a minute. His _teeth_? Isn't a garter, you know, way . . . _up_? And - whoever catches it doesn't have to marry McGonagall, does he?" Harry inquired, alarmed. He suddenly saw McGonagall in Fleur's dress again, only this time he was standing next to her in a top hat and tails.

"Yes, and not really - Mum would've had conniptions - and no," Fred supplied without missing a beat. Harry shook his head and stepped into the fan of single guys who were now standing where the girls had been. Most of them were laughing at Bill, who was sitting on the ground with his legs folded beneath him. Charlie, sniggering like a maniac, was tying Bill's hands behind his back with what looked suspiciously like the shoulder-sash from Charlie's best man robes. Fleur had her hands to her face; she was giggling as hard as Charlie, but she had a blush on her face to go with the laughter. Bill's face matched hers. Harry heard him mutter something. Charlie laughed harder than ever, and Harry leaned over toward George to ask what Bill had said.

"He said 'I can't believe my kid brother is tying me up. Isn't this supposed to go the other way around?'" George whispered as Charlie tugged on the knot between Bill's wrists, stepped backward into the fan, and started a rhythmic clapping. Some of the older people in the fan - Bill's friends, Harry figured - started stamping a foot in time with the clapping. Bill struggled to find a hem for close to a minute before simply grabbing a section of lace in his mouth and pulling it back. Most of the people watching laughed loudly. The sound increased as he seized the decorative garter (which was just above Fleur's knee, not very high at all - Harry'd seen her wearing skirts shorter than that during the year she'd spent at Hogwarts), pulled it off, and then tried to step over his hands so he could pick it up. Charlie pulled out his wand and flicked it. The erstwhile shoulder-sash unknotted itself. Bill picked up the small circle of fabric he'd fought for, turned his back, and tossed it. The throw went wide to the left, and Charlie snagged it, then blushed. Bill turned around to see who'd caught it, saw Charlie (who looked very confused indeed), and laughed so hard he had to sit down. Harry and Ron sighed in unison, relieved.

* * *

". . . never catch _me_ pulling up some girl's skirt in public, even if it was only in fun," Ron sermonized as he and Harry wandered through the crowd of guests, each carrying a piece of wedding cake. Ron had been going on about the garter-throwing ever since Fleur had pulled Bill up from where he'd sat down, twenty minutes ago. Harry was tempted to tell him to shut up, that it really wasn't that indecent, but Charlie beat him to it. They were all sitting at the same table they'd been at before Fleur threw the bouquet (with the exception of Bill and Fleur themselves, who were cutting the cake for other people), and Harry suspected that he, at least, would be sitting here until the reception was over. Charlie had gotten up twice to dance with some friend of Bill's, a dark-eyed girl named Nina, who seemed to be Bill's version of a blind date for his younger brother. Ron had been dragged away at one point by Hermione, and McGonagall had only now gotten back with a piece of cake. The twins, of course, had been all over the place, most especially behind the wedding arch from that morning. Harry had the feeling they were plotting something. He only hoped their somewhat limited sense of propriety would keep them from making a fiasco out of their brother's wedding.

* * *

Harry got his answer soon enough, as dark fell over the Weasley garden and the twins touched off fireworks. Fleur shrieked at the first loud boom, convinced that someone was shooting hexes at the garden, and then laughed at herself out loud, clearly embarrassed. Most people had drifted away within an hour of Fred and George's show at the end, until by eleven o'clock only the Weasleys, Delacours, Luna, Harry, and Hermione were still standing in the garden. The Delacours soon bid them goodnight after helping to carry dishes inside, and Luna followed. Bill and Fleur had disappeared, probably already on their way to wherever they were spending their honeymoon. Mrs. Weasley yawned.

"Well, that's that," she said, in a falsely cheery voice - Harry suspected she'd been crying again. Charlie was folding tablecloths with his wand - it was far less dangerous than floating glass dishes through the garden, and far quicker than folding them by hand, of course. Mrs. Weasley made shooing motions at Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione.

"Up to bed, all of you," she admonished. "We can take care of the tables and chairs in the morning. By the day after tomorrow you won't even know there was . . . you won't be able to tell we had people here at all," she finished, and Harry could hear tears threatening again. He and Ron made good their escape . . . but Harry had to wonder, as he plodded up the staircase, if he would even still be at the Burrow the day after tomorrow.

* * *

REFERENCE NOTES:

(1) This is traditionally the sealing of the vows at a Jewish wedding, although in a Jewish wedding the veil isn't wrapped around the wineglass (and the bride and groom don't drink from it, I don't think). My sister, who is Jewish (and getting married this May!), told me that this traditional custom is a symbol of breaking away from the old home and family and starting the new. I liked that idea, so I added more to it and called it a Wizarding tradition instead.

(2) According to JKR in an interview, Charlie is three years older than Percy and two years younger than Bill, which means he would have started school eight years before Harry did. This can't be correct, though (and Rowling herself has admitted that the math is probably off) because in PoA Oliver says that it's been 7 years since Gryffindor's won the Quidditch Cup, and Charlie played right up to the end of school (the last time Gryffindor won was when he was on the team, according to F&G in the first book), meaning that there ought to be eight years of difference between Charlie and Percy's ages. With those two exceptions, though, Charlie's age would appear to be as Rowling said in that interview, so even though I hate using the "incorrect" age, I will be using it in this story to prevent confusion. (And if this note confused you, just ignore it.)

(3) I don't know if this occurs in Europe, too, but I've been to two or three weddings in the US, and they all did this. It's basically the guy's version of the bouquet-throwing.


End file.
